Mind Your Step || Bertha + Mundungus
shinyjorkins:
Bertha took a cautious step back when the pile of fabric and garbage started moving. She wrinkled her nose and gripped her wand tightly in her pocket, ready to defend herself if necessary. The coat slipped off the man’s face, covered in dirt and grime. Seeing the state the man was in she kinda regretted the decision to wake him up. She could’ve been back at work now, instead of standing in the filth with a bum.
The rough voice and downright rude attitude made Bertha huff out loud and she placed her hands on her hips. “Of course,” she muttered. “No gratitude. I should’ve let you freeze to death instead.”
The man either didn’t hear her, or didn’t care, but it seemed as if he’d decided that it was time to wake up. He was rubbing his eyes and with that removed some of the grime on his face. When Bertha saw who the man was she let out a loud sigh. “Mundungus Fletcher,” she said with thinly veiled dismay. “Still kicking?”
She barely remembered Mundungus from school. Pureblood, but poor, and not a good match or one to consort with. Though that had never been an issue. He was a few years older than Bertha, so they never really spent any time together, despite being in the same house. He’d been kind of a loner at school and no one really paid attention to him unless there was a party involved. The only thing she knew about him these days was that he was mixing it with the boringly good guys. Bertha hadn’t been able to confirm it, but she suspected Dumbledore had something on Fletcher, which he wasn’t above using to his advantage.
“Shouldn’t you be with your little friends?” she said and hunched down in front of him, all thoughts of making it back to work forgotten. “What is the Order up to these days?”
“Wha’?” He blinked a few times, silently willing his mind to kick into gear while he squinted up at the lady who seemed to be inspecting him with a look he knew all too well: disgusted recognition. He wished he could have said he shared the sentiment. Alas, that required a crucial part he was yet lacking.
Recognition.
He groaned, head lolling back as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the stiffness a long night curled into an awkward position had gotten him. “Lots of words you got there.” And he was still trying to piece them all together the way they’d been intended to arrive at his brain. What did this crazy woman want from him anyway? Usually when people found him in the position he was currently in, they either chased him off, ignored him, or—more rarely—offered some misplaced yet well-intended sympathies. They didn’t make a habit of sticking around to torture him with questions. A particularly nasty option, as he quickly found.
When he’d managed to adjust to the light enough to keep his eyes open in a hungover squint, he forced himself to sit almost properly upright, his back falling heavily against the dirty wall. That was about as proper as he’d get, and he only bothered with the effort because that lady looked like… well. A lady. He’d conveniently unlearned a lot of his pureblood heritage over the years, and gladly so, but he supposed some things just got stuck if they got drilled into you enough.
“You got me,” he said hoarsely, swallowing dryly as he noticed the scratchiness of his throat. Merlin, this morning truly took the piss, didn’t it? “‘dungus Fletcher as I live ’n breathe. Who’s you?”
She seemed to know him, which meant nothing. Many people did. Most of them he’d met and had absolutely no way to remember, considering the state he liked to keep himself in. Far as he could tell, they used to be best mates ten years ago, or maybe they met once in a pub. It made no difference to him. The only thing noteworthy about this woman was that she apparently had an inkling who he worked for, which was news even to his clouded mind.
“What’s it you’re asking, sunshine?” He considered her with a cautious frown. He was incapacitated, but he wasn’t stupid. People asking questions usually spelled trouble, and that was one thing he’d definitely already got enough of without adding ‘revealing incriminating information’ to the list. “Think just catchin’ me off guard’s enough to make me spill? Dunno who you think you are, but ’s too early ’n the mornin’ to tell you all the reasons I won’t say a thing to you, Sunny.”